


Ron Gets Wood

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Crack, It wrote itself, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 07:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20287930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ron Weasley and the Whomping Willow reconnect. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all.





	Ron Gets Wood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucifersfavoritechild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersfavoritechild/gifts).

Ron trampled through the wet grounds of Hogwarts, swearing every few feet when his foot would plunge into a puddle. Everyone in the auror office had drawn straws to decide who would check on the suspicious activity in the grounds. The suspicious activity turned out to be a fallen tree with a bowtruckle infestation.

Ron nearly passed by the Whomping Willow, ready to give it a wide berth given the injuries it had inflicted on him back in his third year, but something in the fading sunset drew him closer to the tree. He levitated a small branch to rest on the Whomping Willow's sweet spot, and the tree's branches which had been pretending to move because of a breeze stilled.

Ron approached the tree and mumbled a greeting. He stroked the trunk and marvelled at the intricacy of the bark and how it changed beneath his fingers. He let his gaze travel across the girth of the tree. His arms would cover barely an eighth of its circumference. He noticed a small stump, almost like a foothold, and put his foot on it. In the growing darkness, Ron climbed the tree. At the top, he found a cocoon of branches and sat down. The Willow seemed to sigh, the slightest stretch and relaxation in its limbs. 

Ron ran his hand across the branches and was taken by surprise when he felt a warmth beneath his fingers. He shifted onto his knees and leant towards the warmth. Branches and moss blended together in a mound that he couldn't stop himself from touching. His fingers delved further and he felt himself inexplicably aroused. Deeper into the mound, he stopped when his fingers met a sticky sap.

The knuckles on his free hand were white where they gripped a branch. He withdrew his hand from the mound, let go of the branch, and fumbled with his robes. His trousers fell to his knees and his erection was free. The sun had set and he shivered in the cold. That warmth. He needed that warmth. He stroked his erection, his hand still sticky with sap, and guided himself into the mound. Ron groaned as he pushed further into the Willow's deep sticky heat. He began to thrust and the tree stilled. His thrusts came harder and harder until, his arms wrapped around larger branches and fingers digging into the bark, he came, his own hot load mixing with the Willow's sap. The Willow's branches snapped around the tree as he came, then relaxed. Ron pulled out, still holding onto the tree, and moaned as the cold air hit his moist cock.

Ron cleaned himself up and descended the tree, looking back at the branches swaying softly. Before he had left the grounds, he knew he would be back.

The next night, Ron excused himself and under the cover of darkness, returned to the Whomping Willow. He climbed the tree and breathing heavily searched for the source of his previous climax. His fingers found the mound of wood and moss. Ron took off his robes. The robes pooled around his knees and he knelt, completely bare from the knees up.

He was hard before his fingers had explored the Willow's sticky depths again. He guided himself in with deliberate slowness. Ron wanted to savour this night. Gentle thrusts in and out of the mound meant he didn't feel the approaching branch until it brushed his backside. He reached back and felt a length of wood exuding sap nudging between his buttocks. Ron paused for only a moment before reaching back with his other hand so that he could use both to spread his buttocks. He stilled as the wood approached his tight entrance. The warm sap coated his entrance and the wood pushed further in. Ron breathed deeply, still holding himself open. The wood pushed further and Ron could feel sap filling him and dripping down his legs. After a time, the wood went no further and Ron released his buttocks. He held onto a large branch in front of him and began his gentle thrusts into the warm mound. Ron and the Whomping Willow moved with each other while the moon crossed the sky. The dawn chorus had begun when Ron felt the wood withdraw from him. He came again in the mound and pulled out. He stroked the branches and cleaned himself up.

When Ron returned the next night, the Whomping Willow was gone. He later found out that it had been moved after being purchased by an eager arborist for a private garden. He looked around the ground and fell to his knees when he saw a broken branch. He would know that bark anywhere now. He stroked the wood and transfigured it into a smaller object, still wide and long with a still wider base, but small enough to keep with him. It was harder on his own, but he guided the small reminder between his buttocks and into his entrance. He stroked his erection and came, crying, as his seed spilled on the fresh earth. He left the grounds with his little piece of the Whomping Willow still inside him.


End file.
